By Fire and Sword, By Gold and Silver
by Reidicus
Summary: A story of a lone wanderer, set in the post apocalyptic ruins of New York City. I used Fallout simply as a setting and a premise. You will see nods to the Enclave and Brotherhood of Steel, but you will see little to no characters featured in the games. This was my attempt at creating my own little piece of the Fallout universe for fun. I hope you enjoy.
1. Prologue

Prologue:

Some might say this story is about more than just survival. That it has something to say about the very spirit of humanity. About our inherent greed, selfishness, and cruelty. Maybe it is. All I know is it's my story.

The Metropolis has always been a foreboding place. Once the megacity of New York, it was a prime target when the nukes started flying. Despite what people say, war changes. It wasn't soldiers those Chinese bastards were after, and it sure as hell wasn't strategic resources and important infrastructure. It was people. And hell, the nukes did a pretty damn good job. Those who weren't killed by the blasts died from radiation poisoning, or became horrific monsters, so called "ghouls". When humans finally began to emerge from the midst of the wreckage, they found nothing but rubble, smoke, and the remnants of past lives. They were without their laws or government, without the technology they depended on, without the basics of life.

Civilization began to build itself from the very beginnings, forming primitive tribes, parodies of the old powers of the world. Human interaction had reverted to its most brutal of forms, the animalistic "Survival of the Fittest".

From the smoking remains of downtown came the bankers and financial geniuses of the Pre-Great War era. Using their great wealth, they had built themselves shelters, similar to those of Vault Tec, and hid themselves away during the nuclear holocaust. They emerged equipped with resources from the old world and built themselves an empire amid the ruins of their former domains, quickly extending trade networks throughout the ruins of the great city. Wall Street continued to be a powerful term, not because of its wavering stock markets, but for its military and economic capabilities.

One thing's for sure, when the smoke finally cleared, the damage was catastrophic. Skyscrapers had crumbled, streets were left in ruin, and skeletons littered the street. Lives were shattered in an instant, entire populations decimated in the blink of an eye. People needed something they could direct all of their rage and aggression at. Neighbors turned on neighbors because of their appearance, rather than their origins. Chinatown became a haven for the now shunned Chinese populace of New York, giving birth to a second empire. Day and night its citizens worked to erect barriers, sealing its occupants away from the senseless persecution of their one-time friends, creating a fortress city unrivaled throughout the Wasteland, Nanjing.

These two powers are just a sampling amongst the feral humans that dominated the twisted terrain of concrete and rebar, two amongst hundreds more. I could mention the baseball bat toting soldiers of the Yankee Militia, or the Protectron armed NYPD, but the Chinese and Wall Street are by far the most important in my story, and that's what I'm here to tell.

The others?

Well, they're stories for another time


	2. Chapter 1: Past Due

Chapter 1: Past Due

Authors Note: The pacing in this chapter is a little bit odd. I have a REALLY cool idea for the next chapter I could barely contain my enthusiasm for, and that, coupled with the fact I originally wrote this entire chapter in 3rd person complicated things. I think I need to sleep on it. I thought someone might like to see it, though, considering I only have a prologue so far.

"'Past due'? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

The massive man across the table from me shrugs, his massive shoulders almost comically stretching his grimy suit.

"It means you owe money to Wall Street" the behemoth responds, cracking his knuckles in a not-so subtle reminder of his brawn. I slowly re-examine the tattered sheaf of paper in my hands, before placing it back on the table.

"We don't have that kind of money. You'd have to search the whole of the Metropolis to find that many fucking caps. Wall Street is gonna have to understand, they're asking for too much!"

Slowly, the fleshy monolith stands, placing a large palm flat on the table. "If you'd rather talk to the repo men, I can call them in."

 _Now that…. That could be an issue._ I think for a moment as I examine the massive piece of flesh and bone. I fiddle with my shirt absent mindedly, staring straight over his shoulder, trying to ignore the outline of a plasma pistol on his hip. "Look, you have to understand, it's not that we don't wanna pay, it's that we can't!"

The slab of muscle holds his hand up, signaling for silence. "You have been protected by Wall Street for years. We've kept the Chin away, and how do you repay us? You don't! You take our kindness and don't bother to repay it!"

"IF YOUR KINDNESS COSTS THIS FUCKING MUCH, THEN WHO CAN ATTEMPT TO REPAY IT!?"

 _Why? Why can I not keep my damn mouth shut?_ The monolith stares me down, his beady eyes narrowing to slits. "Very well, we will extend your loan. But if you don't have the caps by next week, well…." The monstrous man makes a slitting motion across his throat and winks, before turning and leaving me alone in the small room. I sit for a moment in shock, not sure how I managed to say those words and not have my vocal chords turned out and made into some twisted sort of entrée. Staring down at the paper one last time, I try to figure out why he let me go, before moving towards the door as well. I take a deep breath before I turn the knob, steeling myself for the journey to the town hall.

Sunlight blinds me as I emerge into the middle of a small, cramped street. Shanties crowd either side of the rough path, their walls scrabbled together from rotted wood, rusted metal, and a wide assortment of questionable building materials. It's really not that bad of a place, but Wall Street drains the Guts for all it's worth. If there was anything worthwhile here, we'd probably be dead, but the bankers get their caps off of us easily enough. Rushing down the small avenue, dodging between passerby in a panicked sort of jig, I try to figure out why the hell the banker didn't rip me to shreds. As I move, the street begins to widen, and its disrepair becomes somewhat less noticeable. The patchwork shanties give way to taller buildings of more notable architecture, relics of the Pre-War era, stretching several stories above their makeshift counterparts, with some semblance of plant life lining each side of the small road. Slowly, the end of the avenue moves into sight, revealing the gutted remains of a skyscraper. Still a gargantuan piece of architecture, it eclipses the motley collection of buildings clustered around its base, a sort of wall between the Guts and the outside world. A fitting place for the seat of power in our twisted little piece of New York.

I skitter through the entry, making for a crumbled set of stairs. Taking them two at a time, I dash like a madman towards the peak of the concrete structure. As I reach the top, a door comes into sight, patched together from various metal plates. On either side sit two men, each holding badly rusted, but still formidable looking firearms. With an air of urgency, I wave at them. They pull out of their reverie with a start, then scramble to open the metal door, allowing me to enter the office beyond.

"Ah, how'd it go Sellers?"

 _Shit.._ I freeze in place, my arms at my side and my legs rigid, chin raised upwards, eyes fixed on a painting of a cottage two feet to the left of her shoulder. She's been expecting me, but that tone always manages to make me feel like a vulnerable animal.

"They've decided to extend the loan, Madame Mayor."

A woman sits on the opposite side of the room, examining me with a bemused expression on her face.

"You know, you're not in the military Sellers, you don't have to stand at attention."

I relax slightly, feeling my adams apple make its own little dance of panic. "Sorry Ma'am."

The mayor examines me a moment longer, before breaking the silence. "I assume there's still something wrong? You don't seem to be at ease right now.."

I stare at the mayor for a moment, trying to figure out myself why the bankers, slobs of men, were so… accommodating. "Well, I… I yelled at the banker.." I say, not sure what else to tell her.

The mayor's face turns completely white, features slowly betraying a feeling of dread. "And THEN he granted you the loan extension?"

"Yes…?"

The mayor freezes as well, and I watch as the shock slowly spreads across the rest of her features. In a hurricane of movement, she stands and begins ruffling through the drawers of her desk. "Get the militia ready. Now." I nod frantically, knowing that we have both reached the same conclusion, and begin a mad dash for the door as the Mayor rips open drawers. I fling the metal frame back and step through the aperture, only to be met by twin bolts of plasma, which slam into the guards flanking me. Dashes of green light flash through the windows, accompanied by screams and thunderous roars as the shanty town below the skyscraper erupts into chaos.

 _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.._ I think, ducking behind the doorframe. "They're already here!" I scream to the mayor, before diving back towards the middle of the office, a plasma bolt narrowly missing me. With a quick movement, I slam the makeshift door shut, slamming my back against the corroded metal in an effort to seal the entrance.

"Sellers?" I can barely hear the mayor, her voice almost inaudible against the backdrop of gunfire and explosions.

"Yes ma'am?" I ask, trying to peak through gaps in the metal patchwork of the door.

"Move."

"Ma'am?" I turn, bewildered by her request. My eyes widen as I notice an object in her hand. A Pre-War laser pistol, astonishingly clean, is pointed menacingly at the door. Her finger sits on the trigger, oddly motionless, not betraying the obvious fear plastered across her face. I quickly shuffle to the side, tangling my legs in an effort to get out of the reach of the energy weapon. The mayor sweeps open the door, falling to one knee as she fires controlled bursts into a team of suited men sprinting up the stairs below.

"Get down below. Get the armory open. Distribute weapons!" She screams in between blasts, orange light illuminating her face.

The shadowy interior of the skyscraper is for once brightly lit as a line of repo men stream in through the double doors. In unison, they raise their weapons and fire, bullets, orange lasers, and green plasma crisscrossing the open space. A vicious lightshow erupts into being as the mayor returns fire, running along the crumbled floor, ducking between tables and desks. "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL HERE SELLERS?" She screams at me, gesturing wildly towards the stairs. As I begin to move, another thunderous roar accompanies a fireball, this time practically right next to me. There's no time to react, practically no time to process it, before the walls collapse and the stairs disappear in clouds of dust, and the floor drops down towards the ground below.

Before I hit floor one, a single thought runs through my head. _Fuck you, Wall Street._


End file.
